The day was a brilliant one; the sea breezes were exhilarating, and Nesta’s conscience did not awaken. She enjoyed the lodgings, and the room she was to share with Flossie, and the shrimps for tea, and the wading when the tide was down. She enjoyed listening to the band; in short, she enjoyed everything. Her constant smiles were always wreathing her lips; Mr and Mrs Griffiths thought her quite a delightful girl.
So passed the first day. Nesta had even managed, with Flossie’s aid, to send a telegram without either Mr or Mrs Griffiths knowing anything about it. Those magical shillings, which had been produced by her yellow-boy, were so useful. She went to bed that night without any unpleasant telegram, or any unpleasant person coming from Newcastle to disturb her pleasure.
But the next morning she woke with a sigh. It would be all over to-day; she could not expect it to last longer than the middle of the day. Pleasure would be followed by retribution. She had made up her mind to this. She thought, however, that she would have a good morning. Immediately after breakfast she got away with Flossie.
“Floss, it will be all up to-day; they are quite certain to send for me. Even if Molly and Ethel did not open the telegram last night, they will at least send it on to old Marcia, and do you suppose that Miss Mule Selfish will not use every bit of her influence to get me back, and to have me well punished? There’s no doubt on that point whatever.”
“I know all that,” said Flossie. “But, perhaps, they won’t want you back.”
“Not want me back?” said Nesta.
This comment, delightful as it sounded, was scarcely flattering.
“Mothery will want me,” said Nesta.
“If you thought that, I wonder you came.”
“Oh, don’t begin to reproach me,” said Nesta. “Let us go and have a long, long morning all by ourselves.”